say the same of beef and mutton.

Yes, each variety of meat,
As you remark, is much the same,
And we're forbidden now to eat
Fish, oysters, poultry, joint or game.
But though a Nemesis each brings,
The punishment, the doctors tell, is
As nothing to the awful things
Awaiting all who toy with jellies.

Cheese--that is not condemned with these
Yet ample evidence we find
To make us, Damon, look on cheese
As simply poison to mankind;
While those who may desire to pass
Immediately o'er Charon's ferry,
Have but to take a daily glass
Of claret, hock, champagne or sherry.

And therefore, Damon, you and I,
Who fain would live a year at least,
Reluctantly must modify
The scope of our projected feast;
A charcoal biscuit we will share,
Water (distilled, of course,) we'll swallow,
Since this appears the only fare
On which destruction will not follow!

* * * * *

[Illustration]

* * * * *

[Illustration: SMALL SOCIAL AGONIES

_Hostess._ "It's but a poor lunch I can give you! But my cook has got
influenza!"

_Enfant terrible._ "Oh, mummy, you _always_ say that!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: QUITE A NOVELTY.--_Amiable Experimentalist._ "Makes a
delicious side dish, doesn't it? But it is not the common mushroom; it's
a large fungus, called the agaricus procerus. It grows solitary in hedge
rows, is called colubrinus, from the snake-like markings on its stem.
The pileus is covered with scales, which are formed by the breaking-up
of the mud-coloured epidermis, and----" [_General panic takes place_]

* * * * *

THE DIRGE OF THE DINER

_A Restore-Wrong Rhyme_

"_Attendance is charged in the bill!_"
Delighted we sit down to dine;
And order our food and our wine.
The waiter is passing polite,
We eat with a grand appetite
Of dishes compounded with skill.
The room is so cosy and light;
The glass and the silver are bright;
Our flag of defiance is furled,
We seem all at peace with the world,
And rest quite contented until----
Attendance is charged one and nine.
We pay its collector a fine;
And give to the waiter polite
A tip he regards as his right
And duty of ours to fulfil!
The carver, too, looks for a fee;
The man with our coat, so does he!
The port